


Calamity Wild

by Gravestar14



Series: Blights AU [2]
Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Death, Serious mental problems- but I promise it gets better in the end if you bear with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23634955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gravestar14/pseuds/Gravestar14
Summary: ~Part 2 of Blights-AU, recommended that you read the first one first for context~After 150 years, the Hero has finally awoken.Aaaaand everything’s gone to heck in a handbasket (Link’s emotional state included). A rather... major... mishap has Link questioning the directions that Zelda gave him upon his awakening. Zelda might not be Zelda. And Link desperately needs to shamble both a plan and himself together and figure something out because for whatever reason Hyrule has decided that defeating evil and saving the kingdom is his problem.With the help of Halflife, a strange amalgamation of energy (and maybe his daughter?) it’s up to Link to beat Calamity Ganon. But can he? Because Calamity Ganon knows Link’s worst enemy... is himself.
Series: Blights AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1701388
Kudos: 10





	1. Still Frames

Like a still frame frozen in time, Link could remember exact moments vividly. 

One of them was the feeling of having the Blight's blood coating his sword as the water-creature screamed and flung itself at him. He remembered the feeling of being frozen- the crushing pain of knowing… just knowing that he’d made one of the greatest mistakes of his life. And that list was getting to be very long. Sometimes when he woke he could still feel the sticky wetness coating his palm, and had to check to make sure he hadn’t done anything… else.  
That he hadn’t killed anyone… else.

He’d often ask himself as he went to bed “How did I get here?”....

How did the hero become the villain of the story? 

The answer to that was a long and heavy road, one that had heaped him with endless burdens, endless expectations.  
One that had wasted him away; piece by precious piece.  
But of all the moments he could never forget, the first one- the most painful one- was the day it all began to go wrong.  
He’d been a young boy then (he was still young, mind you, but not inside) and he’d been training outside of his father’s house. His stalwart, dedicated, guardsmen father.  
And the moments, frozen like stills, still flashed across his mind.

The royal carriage pulling up. 

His father stepping out.

A hand on his shoulder.

“You’re going to do a great job.”

The princess.

The sword. 

“Hero.”

After that had come the trials. The working his body until he collapsed on his knees, vomiting. The expectations. The pain.

After the boy had been broken, the knight could do what he needed to do.  
Be the hero that he needed to be. 

Perhaps seeing his newfound silence, the muteness that never abated, the princess sought to be there for her Champion. Pulling him out of the castle, she would take him on adventures in the surrounding wilderness as her ‘bodyguard’, letting him remove the weight of the sword from his belt and ease his sore and aching soul for once.  
Eventually, he would open up to her, finding a voice only when the two of them were alone, and he had something to say. Then came the champions, and he slowly managed to begin to speak with them.  
Kind Mipha who would always heal him when he injured himself by trying to impress them all- to meet their expectations.  
Mighty Urbosa who taught him how to move with the blade and how to train without breaking himself.  
Friendly Daruk who would always go out of his way to abate the young hero’s constant grimness.  
And Revali, who would always challenge him to prove himself- not in physical ability, but in much more- and exemplify his truth (even if he did have an… interesting... way of doing it). 

He would manage to fail all of them by the time this story was over. 

The day they found the guardians was one of the most bittersweet moments he could remember. This too, was captured like a still in his mind.  
The hope, that flourished within his breast, jumping like a happy blupee.  
The thought that, maybe... if they had these then the Captain wouldn’t need him as much. Wouldn’t push him as hard.  
The Captain patting him on the shoulder and telling him that he had to completely relearn his fighting style in order to best work with their new allies.  
The Captain yelling at him because he wasn’t being good enough. Because he wasn’t ‘hero’ enough.  
The disappointed looks that stole what little was left of his fragmented hope and happiness.  
The next two weeks would see him crumpled into a ball at night, whimpering as his body screamed at him. 

Despite everything, he kept his friendship with the Champions and Zelda like a small ember of vitality within himself. And he held onto it for dear life.  
After all, they were all he had left. 

...

The castle rumbled as the boy grabbed his sword, looking up at the gathering storm.  
They had been preparing for some weeks now, training hard. It was time. Time for the battle to end all battles.  
He knew what he had to do. Maneuver the beast into the range of the Divine Beasts and then finish it. Whatever it took. He was willing to give everything. After all, that was the shell that they had made him. The noble, self-sacrificing hero. Who would stop at nothing to see justice done.  
A flash of light told him that the Champions were ready. He was glad that they sat atop their beasts, far away. He didn’t want them to get hurt. He would give anything so that they didn’t.  
Zelda was nervous, and rightly so. Her powers had not come in, despite all her training and father’s wishes. He didn’t blame her. After all, he knew what it was like to disappoint them. He’d just have to pick up the slack. 

Which, granted, would probably kill him, but he was okay with that. 

The next three moments were strung out like an eternity in his mind. He wondered what he could have done differently, how he could have fixed it.  
He was the hero! He was supposed to fix these things. To stop these things. 

But nothing could stop the clouds- red and blue, white and yellow- that gathered on the horizon. The screeching cries as the Blights began the Calamity’s assault for it. The sinking knowledge that he would never see his precious Champions ever again. Part of him held on to kernels of hope like the last fleeting embers of his innocence, but deep down some part of him knew…  
And everything was confirmed after a few heartbreaking moments, when the Divine Beasts’s glow turned to a dark, muddy sick colour.  
And then, with a wild and unearthly screech, the Calamity rose. 

He raised his blade, ready for a fight. It will be fine, he told himself, we still have the guardians. Even if the Divine Beasts are… out of commission. But of course, that had to be wrong too, and suddenly everything was turning against them.  
The forces were being torn apart. Everything. Everything was burning and Link had no way to stop it. No way to make things right.  
To call that moment a battle would be a folly. There was no fighting. No opposition. Just ruin.  
The princess dragging him away by his arm as he screamed at the guardian that had just turned his father into a pile of ash.  
The numbness. The agony.  
All feelings he would become very used to. 

They managed to make it to a field a fair distance away before Link regained his senses. “I-I have to fight it Zelda. That’s what I’m supposed to do. I’m the only one who can.” he managed, resisting her pull for the first time.  
Zelda looked at him, scowling, “You’re a mess. I’m a mess. You can’t possibly fight it in this condition. We need to rest and come back stronger.”  
“But it’s only going to get stronger too!” he protested, “If I take it on now then I can get it while it’s weak.”  
Zelda grabbed his hand, pulling her hero closer. “You can’t. It will kill you. I can’t lose you too. Promise. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Please.”  
“I promise.” he lied.  
Another frozen moment. Another regret.  
Because, in the time that he wasted, the precious moments that they took together, the Calamity reared its head once more, finding its prey. Link managed to pull out the Master Sword and deflect the blow, but only barely.  
He pulled out his sword, offering a silent apology to the sky. He would see this evil buried this day or die trying.  
Whatever it took.  
He struck a few lightning-fast blows, moving in closer will rapid strikes and precision. Coming nearer to his goal, to the evil creature’s weak spot. He would see the evil buried.  
He jumped, dodging behind the twisted creature. He would see the evil buried.  
He raised his sword, seeing the spot he needed to strike. And the razor-sharp spikes that he needed to get past to get there. He would see the evil buried.  
He would see the evil buried. 

Jumping, he pushed off of the Calamity’s sword, vaulting upwards and putting his sword below him, driving it straight into the weak spot. And himself straight into the spikes. It would be worth it. It would all be worth it. If he could just save everyone… be the hero he was supposed to be.  
But he never got the chance, because Zelda screamed, reaching out with both hands to try and push him away… somehow. Yet something did come out of those hands, and it was a pure golden light that pushed the creature back, causing him to fall down and embed his sword into dirt.  
He looked at her with a mix of confusion and hurt in his eyes. He was supposed to have finished this, right here and now. He was supposed to have saved her.  
But there were only the tears streaming down her face, the shaky hand that pointed behind him as he turned and came face-to-face with the Calamity, his sword still stuck hard into the dirt.  
He pulled helplessly, trying to get up, trying to get out, in time. But it was to no avail. The creature rose up as he tugged desperately upon his sword arm, trying to get his weapon out. He saw the energy, black and crackling, cast light over the creatures twisted visage.  
He saw the princess run at him, pushing him down and causing him to let go of the sword. And then the energy pulse its way into her back.  
He tried to squirm on top, but Zelda pinned him down. “Y-you’ve paid enough.” she managed before slumping down.  
Soon, the energy was covering her completely. He could feel the harsh sting of the corruption upon his cheek, even, and she was on top.  
“Zelda…” he whispered, a scream building inside. 

And then the Calamity took her away. 

And as it retreated, it cast one last look in his direction as one of the Blights materialized beside it. “Aren’t you going to do anything about that one?” The Blight asked.  
“No.” Calamity replied, “He’s a shell. Useless. Without the girl, he’s an arrow with no bow. A tool with no direction.  
He means nothing.”

His last thoughts as the world faded and the corruption sank into his bones were of the fact that the Captain and everyone else was right.  
He wasn’t good enough.  
And he could never be the hero they wanted him to be.  
Not even for the people who mattered most. 

...

A hundred and fifty years later, the last Champion would awake to find that the combination of his, Zelda’s, and the Calamity’s power had created another being.  
Halflife, who would greet him back into the world with a, “Hello, Father.” 

And the silent whisper of Zelda’s voice from far away would give him hope.

You need to kill the Blights, Link.


	2. Burnt And Beaten And Borrowed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Viewer discretion is advised, if you want to miss the worst parts of this work just skip this chapter... it deals with some pretty serious subject matter)

The skies were dark above Hyrule Castle. Though the Calamity was sleeping, it’s energies had gotten steadily stronger over the 150-year period since everything had fallen apart for Link. The formerly golden turrets were painted with purple and black, the castle itself radiating a malicious energy. He could feel it pulsating in the scar he now bore on his left cheek. The scar left by the calamitous energy that Zelda hadn’t blocked with her body.   
He closed his eyes, refocusing. The energy had little effect on him, but he still felt its mark deep within himself. Especially this close to the castle. He wondered how Zelda had managed to send him a message here, when he’d awoken, despite all that. Though, the princess had powers he didn’t. And the message had been wrong.

‘You need to kill the Blights, Link’

He hadn’t needed too. But perhaps Zelda didn’t know that. He’d get answers as soon as he met her in the castle, either way. Then maybe he could sort out all these emotions swirling beneath his skin. Maybe she could tell him that it wasn’t his fault and he’d believe her. Maybe all the pain would go away.   
He had to keep ahold of this hope. It was all he had.  
“We’re almost there, Father.” Halflife commented, materializing from out of his shadow. The girl’s midnight-blue eyes reflected the energy as she peeled over his shoulder at the towering castle. Wonder was painted over those eyes, and her form of black, twisting energies brought false hands up over her mouth to gape at the enormity of the palace.  
She’d never seen it before.   
He didn’t respond, not feeling a need to. His muteness came and went when he had something to say, and he had been feeling like his airways were being choked ever since he’d put his sword through Fireblight’s chest. He’d surprised himself by even being able to respond to the boy’s retorts before that event. Though, he supposed, he’d still believed that he could achieve redemption in that quick second between when he awoke and when he realized that he was still a failure.   
“You’re thinking bad again.” Halflife commented. She’d become quite acute at interpreting his moods.   
He nodded slowly, forcing words like sandpaper through his throat, “Let’s go see your mother.” 

...

With Urbosa’s aid, he made quick work of the horde of guardians stationed at the front gate; their centuries-old cogs and wheels were unable to take the violent shock.   
The castle passed in a blur of blade and fighting, with Halflife attempting to find a way to help him with varied levels of success. It was hard for her to touch or even experience any sort of living when little to no one could see her, and she couldn’t touch anything without great difficulty.  
“I threw a pot!” she exclaimed after one mostly successful try, “Was it a helpful pot? Tell me it was a helpful pot!”   
He let a small smile come to his face, nodding.  
“IT WAS A HELPFUL POT!” Halflife screamed, fist pumping in the air. 

It took suspiciously little time for the two of them to reach the antichamber where the Calamity slept. Link finally allowed himself fragments of hope. Zelda had clearly managed to chip off some energy and keep the Calamity sleeping. Perhaps her power hadn’t been sleeping, rather, storing itself for this time. When she needed it most. 

She was facing a stained glass window, staring out at the energy surrounding the castle like she’d been mesmerized. She looked unscarred, unmarred. Exactly like the princess he’d known. His heart filled- for the first time in over a hundred years- with joy and he couldn’t resist running at her and wrapping her in a hug.  
“Zelda!” he called joyfully, “You’re really here! It’s really you!”  
“Hello, Link.” she replied emotionlessly, “Did you do what I told you to do?”  
“I killed Thunderblight… and Fireblight. But I was wrong, they can be freed a-and saved and… and so I stopped to come back here to talk to you so you could tell me what to do next.”   
“I already told you what to do.”  
“B-but I just told you…”   
“You can’t trust them.”  
“But the things I’ve seen, they… they seem almost Hylian…”  
“That’s all a ruse.”  
“Then tell me why…” he asked slowly, “Give me a reason and I’ll do anything for you.” 

Zelda turned to face him mechanically, like a puppet pulled by the strings. Her eyes were dripping black, and had stained the front of her dress and her precious, beautiful gold hair: all once so beautiful. Link dropped her, backing up a few steps. He didn’t understand.  
She’d talked to him.  
In her voice.

She raised her hands, oily tendrils pulling him down to the floor.   
He saw Halflife sink into a dark corner.   
She walked slowly, her voice no longer her own, “Come join me…” she whispered, darkness bubbling out of her mouth as she talked.   
Her hand reached out to touch his scar.  
He screamed, pulling away, the last fragments of hope dissolving within himself.  
She grabbed him back, hands running over his face and jawline.  
He stopped fighting, he had nothing left. Nothing. Nothing for him to fight for. No chance at redemption. He’d failed. Everyone and everything. Zelda couldn’t make everything better. Nobody could make everything better. She’d died for him and there wasn’t even anything left to die for.   
He’d been a shell ever since he’d first met the Captain.  
Ever since he was first called hero.

He felt himself fade into darkness, and he was ready to go. It was easy, so easy, and every second more and more of himself was gone. With it went years of pain. Years of self-deprecation. Years of not being whole. Years of having others tell him he wasn’t good enough. Years of believing it.   
He was drunk on the darkness, and could feel his empty soul reaching out… now... embracing it now. His body shuddered and he arched his back so his head was facing the sky, releasing a rapturous gasp. 

After hundreds of years of living with the pain, losing it all felt so. damn. good.

Halflife appeared now, perhaps finally realizing what was happening to him. She tried to pull at the tendrils as they wrapped over him, but her hands slipped through them and she screamed, yelling at him. He couldn’t tell what. He couldn’t hear anymore. 

Everything was just sweet release. 

The Calamity slipped into his thoughts, into his heart, his chest, everything. And, Hylia help him, he let it. He shuddered again, gasping once more as his pupils rolled back into his head and the darkness replaced the whites of his eyes. But he didn’t care anymore- he was just revelling in the feeling of losing it all. 

Halflife’s eyes widened, perhaps realizing something (he was too far gone to think what) and her hands went to his hip, desperately trying to tap at some symbols on his Sheika slate. She narrowed her eyes and focused: pushing hard. Trying to bring her father back. Tapping through the slate, her hands slipping through. But, perhaps because she too had little to lose, she managed to hit a few buttons.   
And then everything changed. 

The ancient, blue energy washed over him like a tide; with the energy pulling him to a shrine far away. With the ancient Sheika technology came the scorching away of all the darkness that Zelda had tried to give him. 

He gasped as everything came rushing back. 

Crumpling into a ball, he laid on the cold stone floor of the shrine. Memories of the Captain’s training- how he’d broken his body and spirit- all came rushing back. All the expectation and the disappointment when their poor, broken hero boy didn’t meet their standards. Everything that had been done to him to make him ready for the Calamity that had, really, made him so much less.   
He felt the weight of the sword on his belt.   
He felt the emptiness inside him.  
He felt the space where the hope had left.  
He felt the knowledge that it was never going to get better. And him trying had only made it so much worse.

And now he’d tasted what it felt like to lose all of that.  
As every pain he’d ever experienced came rushing back, he was haunted by the memory of the darkness. How it stole all of his pain. The beauty in its sweet, calm embrace.  
He wanted it.   
He needed it.

His hands went to his sword belt, unbuckling the Master Sword from its sheath.  
“Father?” Halflife asked, “Father, what are you doing?”  
He pulled out the blade, seeing the release in its reflection. It made sense that it would take the final thing he had from him. It had taken everything else already.   
He couldn’t stop himself as he frantically unbuckled his bracer, letting the metallic armour fall to the floor with a hollow, echoey sound that matched his broken soul. 

Leaving his wrist exposed. 

“FATHER!” Halflife screamed, trying to touch the sword, trying to pull it away. But she wouldn’t be able to stop this. He knew it. After all, she couldn’t touch. But she could see the emptiness in his eyes, hidden no longer by a mask of false hope. And she could see the deadly intent in them. “Father…. why?” 

“I’ve failed everyone Halflife. My friends are dead. Zelda is gone. My father is gone. My father turned me over to the Captain and the army and let them kill me. Let them use me. This world is a piece of garbage and it’s all my fault. The Calamity rules everything and I killed the only other person who might have been able to fight it.”   
He pressed his sword against his vein, feeling the empty beat of his life through the cold metal, “Goodbye.”

“You haven’t failed me.” Halflife said quietly, kneeling down so her fingers were just about touching his face. 

And he stopped. Meeting her eyes, whose gaze he’d been averting. He saw in them truth. She wasn’t lying. 

“If you go, who will see me?” She asked. 

For a second, Link was the boy again, overwhelmed and scared in a world that was far too much for him. Perhaps he’d never stopped being that person. His fingers lost their will and the sword clattered down on the stone, having slipped out of his loose grasp. He pounded the pavement with his exposed hand, screaming until he had no more strength left; then he slumped to his side and watered the ground with his tears, Halflife’s ghost of a hand rubbing his back.   
He fell asleep in fetal position.

...

Link the boy woke up with a tear-stained face, and watched the sunrise with Halflife. He didn’t say a word, nor give a gesture for the whole morning. 

But there was something new, a new fire that was lit within him. Everything still hurt, but…   
Perhaps he could really fight the Calamity.  
Because no one could break him more than he’d already been broken. 

“Are you ready, Father?” Halflife asked.   
He picked up his sword, putting it back into the sheath where it belonged, “Let’s go end that piece of garbage.”


	3. Get Up; Begin Again

When Link woke up, he was shivering uncontrollably. Whether that was the fact that he’d spent the night having a complete and utter breakdown or the fact that the shrine Halflife had randomly pressed was in Hebra, he wasn’t sure. He was lucky that it was warmer near the shrine, else he might have gotten frostbite or worse.   
But he was cold.   
The tears he’d been crying were frozen to his cheeks, painting lines of cold down his face. They stung. And part of him was glad for it, because it distracted him from the fact he felt like vomiting or the idea that he’d been used by Ganon-as-Zelda to kill the wayward Blights.   
He should have been smarter.   
Of course, after having the entirety of Calamity Ganon’s energy poured out on top of her, Zelda wouldn’t just be okay. And he should know better than anyone how much that twisted creature loved to play mind games. 

Yet, he couldn’t let himself keep dwelling upon it. Dwelling wouldn’t change anything, and it would just drag him deeper down into the black abyss he’d found himself in. He hated what the pain had made him, but hated even more what had almost been made of him when he’d lost it.  
Perhaps it did have a purpose, after all. 

“Father!” Halflife called, “I found some flowers, and I think you can make some warm juice out of it? So you won’t be cold and shivering anymore?”   
Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he got up slowly, hugging what little clothing he had to his body and nodding, following her to salvation… probably. If he didn’t freeze first.   
“Or is it called something else? A heat… elixir?” Halflife shrugged. Considering that no one except him could really see her, she still didn’t know the technical terms for most everything. However, she was smart, and had figured out a lot of objects and their uses by spending a hundred and fifty years watching the world.   
After a short walk, the flower Halflife wanted to show him to was located. It was a beautiful icy-blue colour, and he knew immediately that Halflife was right. He’d just need to start a fire, heat it a bit, drink the liquid and then he wouldn’t freeze.   
As he reached down to grab the flower, it began to rustle. Pausing, he tilted his head in confusion as the snowbank began to move.   
“BOO!” a light and airy voice called as a heap of slush hit him in the face; he tried to scream through a mouthful of snow. But no sound came out.   
As he spat out snow and wiped more snow from his face, he slowly began to see clearly. Now, he could make out a figure that had burst out of the snowbank; her grey hair hung over her blue-white outfit, which was accented with fur. She had a skirt on and bore markings over her exposed neck and forearms that reminded him of…  
Oh…  
Oh no. 

“Who are you?” she asked, “And why do you look like you’ve just been to demise and back?”  
Because I have, is what he did not say. His voice was (as it often was) uncooperative and he could feel it retreating somewhere within himself, as it often did.   
A hero didn’t really need to be heard, after all.  
Only seen.  
Not that he had the chance to say much of anything considering the fact that the barrage of snow had finally pushed his freezing body over the edge, causing his vision to slowly blacken until he could feel himself hitting the icy snow. 

...

Link awoke feeling surprisingly warm, and stirred slowly.  
“Father! Father!” Halflife exclaimed excitedly, “You’re okay! And awake! I was so worried!”  
“You really need to take better care of yourself.” The woman from before commented, placing a warm cloth on his forehead, “Coming to Hebra without any protection? That’s pretty…” she chose her words carefully, “...unprepared.”  
He shot her a frustrated glance.  
“I know you didn’t mean to.” the woman stated, “Your shadowy friend told me. She’s quite wonderful to talk to. It’s nice having some company around here every once and awhile…”  
He looked confusedly at Halflife.  
Halflife smiled happily, “Yes! She can see me, Father, because she’s a nice elemental spirit who lives around here. You’re lucky you found her before you froze. Father, this is Frost. And if I’m correct, Frost… blight?”  
Halflife must have noticed the markings, too.

The spirit looked down, sighing as a sudden heaviness blanketing her composure, “Look, just because some of us went and joined Ganon because nobody ever pays us any attention, doesn’t mean all of us did. I'm used to being alone. It’s not like anyone ever comes up here. But I didn’t sell anything to that monster.” Frost turned to face him, intent clear in her eyes like a freezer burn. 

Link looked down, unable to manage any more tears but knowing he needed to force a few words out of his throat, “Then I’m sorry.”   
Frost looked at him, turning slowly as she handed him a bowl of warm soup, “For what?”  
He hung his head as Halflife delicately explained what had happened. 

Frost looked at him, the quiet cutting into him like daggers as she took a few moments to respond, “I know Thunder is dead. But they all made their decisions when they went to follow Ganon. They chose their path. But I’m confused. I have an innate connection with my siblings, and I felt Thunder fade. But you said two, and last I checked, I’ve only felt one die.”   
“Father!” Halflife added, “Does that mean you didn’t kill the spirit-blight-whatever child that we met in Rito Village?”  
Link paused, nearly managing to recover the soup bowl as it almost slipped from his fingers. (“Impressive.” Frost commented.)  
But he didn’t hear that. He only FELT. Felt a weight pulled from his shoulders. He hadn’t done it.

Somehow, the Master Sword or his subconscious or something had known enough to spare Fireblight. He set the soup bowl upon a rock ledge before collapsing to his knees, in shock.  
Through his wracking relief, Halflife managed to find enough words to tell Frost everything. Tell Frost the truth, what he’d realized. What the Blight had told him, or tried to. The words he hadn’t heard then.   
“Y-you mean…” she managed, “Fire… and a-and t-the others they’re themselves? They realized?!? A-and Fire… Fireblight’s a hero?”  
He nodded mutely, glad he could bring her this little joy.

And glad too, that he hadn’t been quite the monster he’d thought he was. 

Frost seemed exhilarated, nearly bouncing off of the walls. Her joyfulness was infectious, and despite his sorry state, he couldn’t help allowing himself a little happiness.   
After bouncing off of everything in sight, she managed to pause. “You!” she commented, grabbing his shoulders, “You need to defeat Ganon! And you still look like you’ve gone to demise and back and you're halfway to demise again! You need some serious help…”  
“THANK YOU!” Halflife commented, smiling with satisfaction, “I’ve been trying to tell him that since he woke up.”  
He was confused, and looked at Halflife with complete obliviousness.  
“I’m going to whip you into fighting shape!” Frost announced, “It's time for Hebra Boot Camp!”  
Oh no. That didn’t sound good. 

...

After a few days of rest, he was woken up suddenly one morning by Frost screaming in his ear, causing him to jump out of the makeshift bed. A new set of clothes were placed upon the blankets he was covering himself with, and he looked down incredulously.  
“I’m sick of brewing you warm elixirs.” Frost stated, “These will protect you from the cold.”   
He nodded slowly, taking a few moments to slip the outfit over his body as soon as Frost had left. The inner fur of the suit rubbed over his skin and kept a soft, pulsating warmth close to him. It was nice.  
Once he was done, he walked outside to meet his host. He might as well get this over with.  
“Okay! I gave you a few days to recoup, now it’s time for some training!” Frost announced.  
He’d secretly hoped she’d forgotten about that. 

She took him out to a tall mountain, one of many snow-covered peaks that littered the region with its tall, imposing shadow. After walking around the mountain, up and down and back to the mountain bottom, and then up a rather steep path to a rather sheer cliff, Frost stopped.   
“Okay.” she commented, “This should work.”  
He was exhausted, the fur providing much-needed heat but also causing him to sweat profusely. Apparently running like an arrow headlong into danger without much sleep, and running across the continent without much food had consequences. He wasn’t exactly in his best shape, and now that he was treating himself somewhat better, he was noticing it more.   
“Ooooohhh what are you going to have Father do?” Halflife- always the curious one- asked excitedly.   
Frost pointed to the sheer cliff, “Get on it. Like climbing-style. But don’t actually climb, I just want to test your endurance. See how long you can hang there.”  
He sighed, relenting, and slipped on a pair of climbing gloves to replace the warm and definitely-not-grippy mittens. Stepping up to the wall and putting his foot on the wall, he boosted himself up until he could find suitable hand and footholds to suspend himself.  
“You good?” Frost asked, and when he nodded, continued, “Okay, starting the clock. Let’s see how long you can last.”   
He hung there until his muscles were fire and his body was in agony. Eventually, though, his fingers completely gave out and he slumped to the ground coughing.   
“Okay.” Frost noted, “Thirty-five minutes. Impressive, but I’m sure that’s not your best. It’s okay though! I’ve heard you’ve had a bad run of it, so we’ll work up to what you can really do! Now do it again.”  
He stared at her blankly, gesturing to indicate his beaten-up body and thinking that ‘no, he could not do it again’.  
Frost raised an eyebrow, “First of all, that’s a terrible way to train. Second of all, if you burn yourself out doing one thing while fighting Ganon, you will die. Thirdly,” she threw some snow at him and he, exhausted, couldn’t manage to dodge in time, “No more negative self-talk here! You can do it, I just saw you!”   
He blinked, opening his mouth to offer a protest but finding his voice cut off. Instantly, he retreated into his thoughts.   
He was interrupted by Frost putting her hand over his mouth, “Ah ah ah, what did I just say? Now say it with me, ‘I can do it!’”  
His voice suddenly became whisper-quiet and stuck in his throat, and he found himself mouthing the words instead.   
Halflife frowned, “That was sad.”  
“Yes.” Frost confirmed, “But we’ll work up to more excitement! Now go do it!”   
He got back onto the wall, boosting himself up and closing his eyes. It couldn’t be just as simple as him telling himself that he ‘could do it’...  
Could it?   
He’d spent half his life being told by the Captain that he could never be the hero everyone wanted him to be. No matter what he did, or how hard he tried, or how many times he burnt himself out and dragged himself up, it wasn’t good enough for the Captain. And so it became not good enough for him. And then he started blaming himself for every mistake, because if he’d just been ‘the real hero’, then he would have fixed it. And then he lost his voice.  
And then he lost everything.   
Including his life.   
All of these things had piled up on his shoulders and they’d all become his fault, and so he’d sunk into his sadness and all the weight upon his shoulders and broken himself in the process. 

Before he could ponder the thought any further, his fingers completely gave out and he hit the cold snow, feeling a stinging on his hot and sweaty cheeks.  
“Five minutes.” Frost noted, looking at her timepiece.   
“Yay! Good job, Father!” Halflife smiled, wrapping him in a hug. And for some reason, she was solid this time, and he placed his hand on her arm slowly. And let a small smile creep to his face.

Frost continued with the training, having him run up and down heavy slopes and different things to re-train his body while making sure he ate enough (even threatening on multiple occasions to shove food down his throat if he didn’t take care of himself).   
But the biggest change was the encouragement. Frost seemed impressed by everything, even if it wasn’t half of what his standards were. Though, as he’d began to realize, his standards probably weren’t even attainable. But hearing her say that he’d done a good job and that he ‘could do it’ were words he’d never heard before from a trainer.   
She’d also forced him to tell himself he did good, making him repeat (or rather, mouth- his voice hadn’t been cooperating since he’d teleported here) the words after every session, until they’d been drilled into his skull like a mantra and he did it without thinking. Even if he didn’t believe the words he was mouthing.   
Up and down the peaks of Hebra; into trees, caves and crevasses he trained; Frost encouraging his process every step of the way. The exercises they did were radically different than what he was used to. Rather than focusing on pure strength, Frost would demand he did all things twice or more and take shorter rest periods.

“She’s trying to build your bounce-back, Father.” Halflife told him one day, after he’d asked her to ask Frost, “She knows you’re strong and can fight. But you need to be able to come back from things. And she’s hoping if you can do that physically then…”   
He looked curiously at her as her eyes shifted and she stopped.  
“...nevermind.”   
Still confused by Halflife’s cryptic statement, he was distracted throughout his training the next day.  
“What’s up?” Frost asked, “You seem weird.”   
He shook his head, indicating that it was nothing.  
“Tell me.”  
He looked down, his voice shutting off.  
“Did Halflife talk to you about something? But not completely?”  
He nodded mutely.  
“Oh.” Frost said knowingly. “That.”  
He looked up, curious as to what she was referring to.   
“The elephant in the room. The thing you’ve been avoiding talking about.”   
He tensed up.  
“When I first met you, you were a mess. You can try and forget that or act like it didn’t happen as much as you want but it’s true. And neither of us are sure how much of a mess you still are. Halflife worries about you, you know. Especially considering what happened.”  
His eyes shot up, burning with fury.  
Frost frowned, “No, she didn’t tell me. But her silences and the worried look in her eyes when she looks at you making a half-ass effort to mouth ‘I did good’ told me all I needed to know. And then your reaction confirmed it.”

He instantly felt equal parts stupid and attacked. 

Frost continued, “Look. I know better than anyone what it’s like to struggle. I live in Hebra, by myself, with only my animal friends to keep me company. I’ve spent my entire life alone… but I had my family. And then I lost half of them to Ganon, too. You don’t think I’ve battled loneliness and abandonment? Resentment against the people who never notice me? Heck, I even took a Hylian form to try and get someone to interact… to befriend me.”   
Link paused, his anger mixing with burning shame. He looked down and clenched his fists. Frost noticed, coming closer and putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling his chin up with the other, “This… whatever… you struggle with… you can’t fix it. You can’t change the past or how you got here. You can’t completely fill that hole in your heart or fix the wound in your mind. But you can patch it. Let it scar. Deal with it better. Learn to take care of yourself. Take care of the people you care about. Talk about things. Try. Because you may not be able to change what’s wrong with you, but you can live with it, live a full life. Just try. I don’t care if you hate me for being the one to tell you this, but if you won’t learn for me then do it for your daughter. She deserves that much.” 

In a blind bout of frustration, Link brushed Frost’s hands away and stalked off. He felt naked, confronted, attacked, open, bare. Part of him had hoped that if he just kept going, this would just go away. Or if he ignored it, it would become less of a problem.   
Some distance away he found a barren tree and began slamming his fists into it, not knowing quite what else to do.  
He didn’t want to lose it on either Frost or Halflife, mad as he was. That would only give him more regrets, more pain. And he was past his breaking point already.  
His fist pounded into the frozen bark, beating a rhythm into the hardwood. He kept like that until he could feel a stinging sensation. Confused, he pulled his glove off.

Crimson blood ran through his fingers, his knuckles split wide open.

His eyes widened as he stared at his hand. He hadn’t even realized what he’d been doing to himself. Seeing the flecks of red drip onto the white snow, he felt dizzy.  
What was he doing?!? 

He slumped down into the snow, no strength left to be angry.   
His hand touched the ground and the blood soaked into the nearby snow, sending rivers of red dancing across the whiteout landscape.  
No tears left to cry as he realized this is exactly what he’d done the first time.  
Zelda had only had to jump on top of him and stop him because he’d been reckless. Driven by his own grief and sadness, like an arrow.   
Doing what he thought was right and being willing to give anything of himself to do it.  
And hurting everyone around him in the process.

Frost was right.  
Frost was RIGHT.

In a numb shock, he forced himself up and walked back to the camp. Holding his hand like it was his broken heart, he looked at Frost, at Halflife. Hoping they could see the pain and regret in his eyes. Hoping that they knew he didn’t mean it.   
Any of it.   
“I-I’m s-s-sorry.” He forced his ragged throat to make the words, his empty and broken voice finally finding its way out through all the silence, “P-please help me…”   
Seeing the shock in their eyes- and the pain in Halflife’s- he finally found the words he needed to say, and the air to say them, “I-I need help.”

...

Training continued as usual after that day, but he noticed a change in both of his companions. Frost’s energy was suddenly rejuvenated and she approached the training with the same vigour as she first had. Halflife smiled more often, told him what she thought more, and felt more comfortable (it seemed) just talking with him.

He hadn’t really realized how much he’d been shutting both of them out.

He approached the training differently too. Put his whole self into it. Experienced it. Tried to believe it when he said- not mouthed- the daily ‘I did good’. But it would take time before he truly convinced himself of it.

A few weeks into this new fervour, he found himself approaching the same sheer cliff. Frost sat at the bottom with her timepiece, giving him the thumbs-up. He nodded back determinedly and put his hands and feet into the all-to-familiar places.  
He sat there until his arms burned, but tried to remember the lessons Frost had taught him: that he couldn’t burn out doing only one thing. So when he felt as if he’d reached his maximum point, he stopped, coming down from the cliff.  
“You know the drill.” Frost told him, and he nodded back, “And that was forty minutes.”  
“I can do this.” he tried to convince himself as he took a short rest.  
After a moment he began. His hands and feet found the holds again, he pushed himself back up, and instantly felt the burn in his arms and legs.  
“Hold it!” Frost encouraged, “You can do it!”  
He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together in an effort to distract himself.   
“Just keep going and it will be over in no time!”  
He nodded slowly, closing his eyes and squeezing them to focus himself more on that then his exhaustion. As the moments wore on like centuries, he felt tiredness and strain building up inside him. Be he had to try. Had to be better. Had to make an effort.   
Just like Frost had asked him to.  
Channeling all the tenseness, the frustration, the strain from inside him, he opened his mouth, screaming, “I CAN DO THIS!”

A few seconds passed in blank shock before Frost grinned. She’d never heard his voice before, not pure and unbroken like this. “YEAH YOU CAN! NOW GO DO IT!”

Meanwhile, a quiet and curious shadow-girl was just coming over the crest of the hill to follow where her friends had gone. And as she heard a voice she did not hear often, she looked up and saw a man hanging on a cliff wall, a stubborn determination in his eyes.  
And for the first time in a long time, she wasn’t scared of losing her father.


	4. What We Make

Link sat huffing on the rock. It had been a few months since Frost had started training him, and he could feel himself getting stronger. Physically, but most importantly he found it easier to say things like ‘good morning’ and ‘I’m doing okay’. Things were certainly far from perfect and, as she’d said, the struggle would never leave him completely. But Frost knew what she was doing, and soon he could find a list, albeit short, of things he could live for.   
Rubbing his gloves together and blowing hot breath into his cupped hands, he made an effort to get up and stretch. His legs were sore after running a lap around Hebra. 

“That was pretty fast, Father!” Halflife commented, bounding up to him joyfully with Frost in tow.   
He smiled, “Maybe.”  
“Did I just hear someone not acknowledging their accomplishments?” Frost asked, grabbing a fistful of snow.  
“What… what I meant was I put in my full effort and did what I could manage today!” he smiled nervously as Frost looked at him incredulously.   
After looking him over, Frost dropped the snow and grabbed his shoulders, smiling, “Absolutely! That was wonderful!”  
“Are we going to have supper now?” Halflife asked excitedly, “What about that soup that you made a few days ago..? That was amazing!”  
Link shrugged, “I don’t know if we still have the ingredients…”  
“I think we do.” Frost said, thinking hard, “And from now on you’re cooking. I didn’t realize how much seasoned rock greens had worn on me until I ate something different…”   
As the two of them were laughing, Link sat facing the sky, looking at the silhouette of the castle- and his goal- in the background. He didn’t feel ready yet, but he knew with time he would be.

The thing about destiny, though, is that it doesn’t really care how ready its champions may or may not be. It knocks like a raven upon the door and demands to be let in so it can put them through the flames. And no matter how much pain they carried, it demanded that the weight of the world be put upon their shoulders.

The castle wasn’t the only thing in the distance. Link wasn’t sure that he was even seeing right at first. He’d thought that the black masses surrounding the castle were some old houses, some ruins maybe.   
But then they started moving.  
Thousands upon thousands of crawling, creeping machines with eyes of blue. Splitting into four groups and spreading over the land like a final reckoning. A division to burn through the water. One to scorch the air. Many small ones to turn the sand crimson. And the walkers, making like infernal devices for the slopes of the fiery mountain. But, above them all, the shadow that conglomerated around the battlements and cried with dread malice.  
Calamity Ganon.

Link’s eyes widened with horror- he couldn’t find the words to describe what he was seeing. He had no idea there were even this many guardians left, much less that they would be able to mass so quickly.   
Frost shook him, curious what had spaced him out so much that he’d stood there for so long. He could only manage to point to the horizon as she too looked upon what would be the ruin of the free places of Hyrule. Once and for all.  
“Oh no. Oh Hylia no.” Halflife gasped, “B-but what about all the people… there aren’t enough warriors to…”   
Link spent a few moments gaping at the scene unfolding in front of him. Everything seemed hopeless. And, as he too well knew, dangerous things happened when a person lost hope. So he tried, for once, and thought.

What could he do?

He’d fought guardians before so maybe if he got to one of the villages the he could change this story. Grasping onto the string of hope like a lifeline, his voice shot into his throat.   
“Halflife, we need to get to Rito Village… if we warn them we can maybe help put up a defence and then… I’ve fought them before haven’t I…” he began blabbering, grabbing Frost’s shoulders, “You! You need to go to the desert! Warn the Gerudo! They’re the second-closest and you said you have a sister in the mountains, right? She could help you get there and…”  
“Wait,” Frost interrupted, “Why should I go to the desert? Isn’t it like, a little hot…?”   
“If you go to the mountain, then you’ll have to cross the castle and the Calamity will surely stop you… plus, you’re a Vai, so the Gerudo will let you in. They won’t let me in. And I’ve been to Rito before. They will believe me.” he kept blabbering, desperation in his eyes, “This army will destroy them, Frost. But if you’re there… if they can prepare?”   
Frost saw something in the young hero’s eyes and nodded, “To Gerudo it is then. I’ll call my sister Earthblight and tell her to make the ground move for me.” She turned, nodding, and ran off in the direction of her quarry. 

“Father,” Halflife asked, sadness in her eyes, “What about the others? The Gorons, and… and the Zora?”  
Link looked at the skyline, sadness clouding his eyes, “We aren’t close enough to Zora to warn them. And the mountain is too dangerous.”  
Halflife waited for a few seconds, looking around nervously before responding, “Not for me.”   
Link’s eyes widened.  
“I’m you, and I’m Mother’s energy but they were brought together by the Calamity. I feel… like, like him. He won’t notice if I slip by to the mountain. And I might be able to reach it in time. I’m non-corporal, after all, so I can go directly there…”  
“Halflife,” Link gasped, “No, it’s too dangerous.”  
“But I have to, Father. For all those people…” she touched his face gently, “Promise me you’ll be safe. Don’t do anything stupid…”   
Link tried to grab her hand, but his slipped through, “Halflife!” he gasped as she turned to leave, holding out his hand, “Halflife! I love you, daughter. I’ll… I'll try… promise too, that you’ll be safe. That I’ll see you again…”   
She turned, the sun reflecting her black, shadowy eyes, “You know I can’t promise that.”   
And then she was gone. 

Link walked alone, the clink of his blade against his thigh the only indication that he was even alive. With a striking numbness filling his chest, the only thing that kept him moving forwards was purpose. People were depending on him again. They were fools for doing so. He wasn’t sure he could even fight anymore. 

‘Link’ a voice said weakly, ‘You aren’t alone. You’re never alone.’ 

He looked up, wondering who it was but seeing no one. But somehow that gave him the push he needed, and he bolted the rest of the way to Rito Village.

...

Slamming the door of the Rito Elder’s hut open violently, he gasped. Drenched in his own sweat from sprinting from Hebra he could barely make out the words, “Army of guardians, coming here. Prepare yourselves.”   
The Elder stared at him blankly, “You’re the boy from before. The one who went with Teba to the Divine Beast… what is this about an army?”  
Between gasps, he told the Elder everything he could. About who he was, what he’d seen. The armies. The ruination that was coming.   
After hearing his story, the aging Rito called in all the warriors and all those who could hold a bow to mount a defence, dismissing all but Teba with a wave of feathered hand before commenting.  
“We will not survive this...”  
Link looked hopelessly up at the Rito, despair filling his eyes.  
“Not unless you can finish what you started.”  
Link’s eyes widened, “What do you mean?”  
The elderly Rito gestured at Teba, “He can fly you to the castle. With all the guardians out it will be undefended, and you can reach the Calamity. If you defeat it, the guardians should shut down. We will fight for as long as we can, but you must strike at the heart of this twisted system.”   
Link gulped, knowing what form the Calamity was taking, “I-I’m not sure if I can…”  
Teba turned and picked up his bow, looking back at Link from over his shoulder, “You have to. For all of us. For my wife and children. Will you fly with me again, friend?” 

Link drew his sword, staring at his broken reflection in the blade. He nodded slowly. It was up to him to make up for the fact that he’d been foolish and thrown himself at the Calamity the first time.  
It was time to do it right. 

...

Wind whistling in his hair, Link flew with Teba. The guardian army was still ahead of them, which meant they were moving slower than he’d originally thought. This was good news. For his friends. For all the innocents. For his daughter. But he’d have to take advantage of this time.   
He’d brought his own bow and a quiver filled to the brink with bomb arrows. They’d have to cut a path through the guardian skywatchers in order to get to the castle. He just hoped they could both move fast enough.  
“How are you holding up?” Teba asked from below, seemingly undaunted by the harsh winds.   
“Horrible,” he admitted, “Everyone I know is probably going to die and we’re flying headlong into an army.”  
Teba paused, “You need an attitude adjustment.”  
“You’re not the first one to tell me that.”   
By now, the air was starting to move in strange circular directions, whipping at him from a different place every second. Almost as if the air was being sliced by a hundred different propellers.   
“THE ARMY!” he screamed over the drowning wind, “WE’RE HERE… THEY’RE HERE!”   
But really, he didn’t need to say anything, because the air lit up with thousands of deadly eyes, laser-focused at the pair. 

“Hold on!” Teba gasped, “I’m going to have to do some serious dodging here…”   
With a lurch to the side, the Rito avoided the first barrage and Link managed to fire off a few bomb arrows into the heads of some of his enemies. Every one he picked off now was one less that the Rito had to deal with.   
He barely held on as Teba made the next sharp turn, losing some of his arrows as the Rito twisted upside down to avoid another swarm.   
With another arrow, he managed to knock one skywatcher into a few others, taking them all to a fiery wreck on the ground. Teba was doing a good job, as well, of putting a skywatcher between him and the laser of another skywatcher. 

There was only blue. The blue of the sky, providing a backdrop to everything. The neon blue that cut deadly lines across the sky. The deep, navy blue of his sleeve as he reached back for more bomb arrows. He focused on it, using it to push away the sadness within his head. He just had to reach. To keep trying. Arrow after arrow, close call after close call, Link did something he hadn’t done in awhile.  
He put up a fight.  
For everyone. 

And then like a miracle, he looked and saw, albeit in the distance, empty sky. They could get there. But now they were stuck in the middle, and being quickly swarmed. Something had to be done. And then a thought popped into Link’s head.

The guardians were machines, weren’t they? 

“Urbosa!” he called, putting a hand out in front of him.   
As a hundred lasers focused in on him, he smiled, snapping his fingers. And the lightning- Urbosa’s Fury- responded. Like empty vessels, they fell from grace. Teba bolted out of the gap he’d created, straining his wings to the brink as they broke out of the other side of the horde.   
After a while of flying, when they were sure they were in the clear, Teba laughed. The Rito turned to smile at Link, “That was amazing! How did you do that?”

The battlements of the castle were beginning to be visible amid the thick haze. And standing on a balcony was the Calamity, still wearing Zelda’s body as a meat suit. It was smiling.  
Why was it smiling?

He looked down to see guardians. Fused into the battlements. And as blue streaked across the sky, prophesying bloody execution, he screamed. Teba was distracted, and didn’t turn to look back. At least not until it was too late.   
Moments slowed, and the laser cut through the sky, the blue light moving at snail’s pace. Yet he couldn’t raise a hand to stop it. Not as the blue light became reflected in Teba’s fearful eyes. Not as he felt the impact through the Rito’s breast as the guardian found its mark. Or as the warrior’s entire body seized.   
Startled by the impact, Teba’s wings locked. Link was nearly thrown away from the Rito warrior as the wind whipped at them and they plummeted from the heavens.   
Link gasped, making eye contact with Calamity Ganon for a second as him and Teba passed the balcony, tossing one over each other in an agonizing spiral that never seemed to end.  
Gasping at the scorched rawness of his breast, Teba’s looked down at his injury and then up at Link. Smiling a little, Teba wrapped his wings around the hero and turned himself underneath.   
As Link stared at him with confused eyes, the warrior said, “I’m already gone. I’ve had one foot in the grave for a while. Go save us all.”  
And then they hit the ground. 

The impact jarred Link’s entire body and shook him inside and out. But he survived, and managed not to break anything. With a shaking hand, he closed Teba’s eyes, erasing the warrior’s pained death stare from sight.   
“Thank you.” he whispered softly, knowing that he’d been spared because of this sacrifice. And for once, that didn’t bother him or convince him that he was horrible or wasn’t supposed to be here.  
It was hard, but Teba had made his choice.  
Now it was his turn to make it mean something. 

“Today...” he whispered softly, “Today the Calamity dies.”


	5. For The World

Hyrule Castle was glimmering like a haunting shadow of reds and blacks and purples. The battlements looked as if they’d seen something haunting and reeled away from it, and crawled with eyes- broken and not- of guardians. It was a place of ghosts. Fitting, then, that it held most of his early memories. Fitting, too, that it would likely hold his final once.   
Ganon was trying to wear him down. It was the moblins in the library, the skywatcher outside, the lynels in the guardhouses. It was sitting. Waiting for him. Because it knew that it had all the time in the world and he had little to none. He’d already had to chug at least three magical health tonics, some while in the heat of battle. He possessed more, but at this rate he’d be clean out by the time he’d reached the throne room. And he doubted that he could eat the chicken dinner in his bag while fighting the Calamity.   
Sword became focus became battle. There was only the edge of his blade and the edge of the enemy’s blade. He spun and launched and fired electrical shocks whenever Urbosa could aid him. The path he took passed in a bloodstained blur. The side of his face where the Calamity had scarred him pulsated- perhaps egging him on, perhaps attempting to pull him back. But there was no pulling back. He had to move forwards, push through, push back. Forget, for now.   
He’d deal with the consequences later. For now, it was back to “the hero”, the blank sword fighting maniac who’d tear through whatever came between him and his goal. Part of him dimly realized that there were things he’d have to do here that he’d never forget. After all, he was sure that the Calamity wouldn’t just let Zelda go. But he couldn’t stop.  
So on it was.

After drowning himself in enough blood, he managed to find a shortcut to the chamber where he could feel his enemy sleep. He’d gone silent a long time ago, the only indication of his faded presence a soft in and out of breath. He had no words left, none as Calamity-as-Zelda turned and started laughing, daring him to make the worst mistake of his life. To ruin himself, pushing himself finally past the brink.  
It was okay. If he did it right, then he’d have ‘died in battle with the Calamity’. And it was never for him. It was for the world.   
There were no words. No words. Only his breath and the Calamity laughing. A single moment strung out like a wire over thousands of stories, hundreds of years. And then the string snapped, and it began as Link charged.   
This time, he didn’t let the tendrils of darkness encircle him. He slashed and thrust and parried. His blade sung like music, whistling through the air with more noise than was present in this entire deathly-quiet room.   
The Calamity was a scorpion, a lion, a tiger, something indescribable. Nothing and everything. A blaze of dark power and malicious intent. And he was meeting it, blow for blow, echo for echo, the singing of his sword the only indication that anyone was fighting there.   
“You will lose.” it told him, cutting at once through his intent, his quiet focus, “You will lose and the world will be mine.”   
He stumbled, thrown off and against the wall with the sudden shattering of the silence. He barely managed the next sword parry.  
“You really think I would just stay quiet?” the Calamity laughed with Zelda’s mouth, “I know you. I can’t defeat you in battle. But your mind… oh, it is ever so breakable. Just like your sweet “daughter”. You really think I wouldn’t sense her? She’s made from me.”  
“...what did you do” he asked in a whisper-quiet voice.  
“Nothing.” it said, smiling, “At least not yet. I plan to present her with your head first. Maybe I can tell her you did yourself in…?”   
Link‘s mouth opened in a silent scream, and he raised his sword high, charging at once with reckless fury. But that was exactly as the Calamity had expected, and it dodged easily, wrapping burning tendrils around his shaking form. He choked, trying to fight the pain pressing against his skull. The Master Sword fell out of his hand.   
Life began to fade. He was drifting. He tried to hold on to the pain, but it felt so distant. His face felt warm, as if it was welcoming back a part of itself. His heart screamed. No, it said, you have to make it worth it. You have to make your ruined soul worth something.  
Calamity Ganon knew how to defeat him. It always knew. And, deep down, he knew too that he could not defeat the dread creature alone. Alone he was lost. Alone, he was an arrow with no direction. And the Calamity knew- goddess help him, it KNEW- how to break him, quickly and easily.   
He could not do this alone.   
But then everything stopped.  
And the Calamity fell off him, screaming, the Master Sword embedded in its blackened tendrils. 

“You really think you can put an incorporeal being in a cage?” Halflife asked, spitting something like blood out of her lip, “I’m disappointed.”  
Links hands fumbled for his final healing draught as the Calamity carelessly threw the Master Sword to the side, hissing at the shadow-girl. Ganon advanced on Halflife, but she slipped like water through every attack.  
She’d come for him. She could have easily ran, continued to the Gorons. But she’d stayed. Why? What was the point? There were a thousand Gorons, and he was nothing. Less than nothing. With every thought about her, about her being in danger he found inch upon inch of footing. And he found his feet. She was the last thing he had left, and he’d be damned if she got hurt.   
He met Halflife’s eyes and she brightened, smiling at him from the gaps in between her and the Calamity. The sudden joy, the relief in her face, everything. He didn’t understand. Why him? Why did she care so much? He hadn’t been strong enough, and he’d failed. He…  
He was repeating the Captain’s words.

His eyes widened as he understood. The feeling in his breast- the pulsating drive to protect what he loved- Halflife felt it too. It was in Mipha’s smile as she healed him from every reckless escapade, it was Daruk’s friendly shoulder taps, Urbosa’s ever-patient tutoring, Revali’s constant array of challenges. It was the worried crease in Zelda’s eyes as he broke himself. It was her wish that he’d live, and the sacrifices she’d made to make that a reality.   
He was loved. 

He was loved.

But he couldn’t do this alone. Nobody ever can, really. Not that he was ever really alone. He carried his love with him, but it had been hidden before. Behind a mask of guilt and regret and self-deprecation. And that had isolated him, breaking him down in a spiral of horribleness that had culminated in a series of very bad decisions.  
But Halflife believed in him, like Urbosa had, like Revali, Daruk, Mipha. All of them. And Zelda. And for the first time in his life he was willing to accept that without guilt. Without thinking he wasn’t what they wanted.   
He just had to be worthy of it now.  
The Master Sword was at his side, the blue blade glowing happily in a way he hadn’t seen it behave for some time. His hand went to the hilt and he hefted it high, looking at his imperfect reflection in the blade.  
“Today.” he told himself again, like Frost had told him, “Today the Calamity dies.”   
Halflife flickered, perhaps unable to force incorporeality any longer. The Calamity grinned with Zelda’s mouth, thinking it had won. Its bane was always overconfidence. And in the moment where it thought it had destroyed the shadow-girl, it allowed its true head to show. A grin, an overconfident grin staring down at Halflife from above Zelda’s head.   
The Calamity died with that grin on its face, cut in half by the blade that seals the darkness.

“A-are you alright, Halflife?” Link asked, “Did he hurt you?”  
His daughter raised an eyebrow, “Says the person who’s literally soaked in Calamity-juice. I’m perfectly fine. How are you- mentally, not physically?”  
“Not great. Not terrible either. I have another friend to bury. But… it’s over, isn’t it?” his hand went down to Zelda’s limp form and he brushed her cropped hair out of her eyes, kissing her forehead, “Thank you.” he whispered softly, “I understand now.”   
He sighed, throwing his sword into the sheath and sitting next to Halflife, who smiled and tried to lay a hand on him but couldn’t quite manage. After a few moments, he got up and stretched turning back to look at Zelda with sadness in his eyes.  
Until, at least, he realized something.  
Her eyes were open.

“L-link…?” she asked groggily.  
“Zelda?” Link gasped, “I-I thought you were dead- that when the Calamity died you… you would…”  
She sat up slowly, “I-I should be…” she looked around the room, eyes going to Halflife slowly, “Hello…? Who are you?”  
Halflife drifted over slowly, as if in a dream, grabbing Zelda’s hands, “Hello, mother. I’m so happy you’re here.”  
“M-mother..?” Zelda gasped, “What does she mean Link?”  
“Well, not in the strict sense of the word…” he explained, ”But she’s made of… uh… your power and my spirit and Calamity’s energy.”   
“Oh.” Zelda thought, “Well that’s very interesting I suppose if you combine enough energy that’s so different it becomes completely separate from its parent source that’s so interesting I’d love to study this phenomenon more and…”  
Halflife giggled, “I think I get more than power from you.”  
Link got up and looked out the throne room window, content to leave the two of them to catch up and learn each other. He was content to be with his thoughts, which- for this moment- weren’t poisonous. He saw guardians fall out of the sky in the distance, collapse onto dead legs. He saw the invasions end, the word restored to peace.   
Zelda couldn’t manage to stand, so he picked her up and put his arm around her shoulder, content to be her crutch as she’d been his through all those tough years. The three of them, the family, walked outside and sat upon the dilapidated gate to the castle. The sun was rising in front of them in a watercolour spread of oranges and pinks and blues. He smiled at Zelda, his best friend in all the world. She laughed. And the world seemed alright for the beautiful moments they sat there, staring at the new horizon, traces of the Calamity slowly disappearing. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong. The Calamity wouldn’t just let Zelda go, would it? Did he catch a break for once? He didn’t think so, and for once it didn’t feel like he was being pessimistic. Something felt seriously wrong.

He wouldn’t realize it yet, not until the Calamity would make its presence known on Hyrule Field. But this battle wasn’t over, because the Calamity was not content to rest and wait for another cycle and be defeated by a hero who could barely even function. It wanted blood. It wanted revenge. It wanted the head of the man who’d narrowly defeated it.

But there was fire on the horizon. 

And joy in this moment.


End file.
